Date: Sun, 18 Jul 2004 00:02:54 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown
Subject: You Can't Be Friends With A Slave, Parts 23-24
YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part twenty three
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
MEETINGS WITH MASTER RAFE
Maybe Master Rafe had other motives in making me go
through the slave training with the young lads. He
said he'd wanted me to learn what they were taught,
but perhaps he was wise enough to see that my
experience of slavery with Billy-Joe had been
atypical.
Shorn of all my hair and shaved smooth all over so
that I looked almost a schoolboy again (except for my
bulk), and made to spend all my time with the sixteen
to eighteen year old trainee slaves, I couldn't help
but mentally revert to an earlier age. Then the
lessons of slavery seeped in insidiously to me - I
didn't need the exercise, of course, that caused some
of my fellow trainees so much trouble; but the
lessons in slave deportment, slave speech, and so on,
began to show me how delinquent Billy-Joe had been in
just insisting that I obey only some of "the rules" by
which society wisely governs slave behaviour.
I already knew a lot of the sexual stuff, of course -
on the second day we were paired and they had us
jerking each other off, to help break down any
remaining barriers of sexual prudery. And I already
knew about sucking cock, or so I thought. On the day
they brought in four women and had us spend hours
pleasuring them with our fingers and tongues, and then
fucking them, I had good start on the rest - most of
them had never even seen a woman naked before - and,
indeed, I was used as the "demonstration" and had to
be the first to fuck whilst my classmates all watched.
The next day it was the same - four guys from the
local brothel had been hired to take dick up their
asses all day, and, for me, that was fun! But some of
my fellows still seemed to think that enjoying the
body of another guy was in some way wrong (when I
stopped to think about his I realised how much I'd
changed during my time as a slave - that would have
been my reaction at one time, too).
Because of the importance Master Rafe attached to anal
virginity for his graduates, we were of course not
allowed to fuck each other, and I was really glad that
on the first night with young Chas I'd shown some
restraint: two of the lads were found to have fucked
each other, and they were "expelled" - sent back to
the dealers who had sent them for training. Richie
had the rest of us lined up and lectured us gravely on
what would happen to them - they would have no hope of
finding caring masters who would cherish them and
treat them properly, and the dealers would probably
have to sell them off to brothels, or just as common
field or factory slaves.
Look, I've told you that I'm not at all turned on by
young lads, but somehow each night I found myself
unable to stop having some sort of sexual experience
with the one I was locked in the pallet with. At
their age they were at their peak of their sexual
ability, of course, and so were naturally horny. And
so I suppose it was only natural for me to respond,
and suck them, or let them suck me, or jerk them, or
for me to fuck their thighs, or whatever - or perhaps
it was that I was reverting to an earlier me, a me
that had never appreciated just how much fun it could
be to do these innocent things with a buddy.
For the first time since I was enslaved I somehow felt
totally relaxed, totally secure - all the stuff that
Billy-Joe had spouted about how lucky slaves were not
to have to worry about things had previously struck me
as a load of bullshit. But now I could see it was
true: the young lads here had no more worries about
exams or SATS at school, didn't have to worry about
trying to make out with girls, or of making cash at
their Saturday jobs, or anything. Like me, they were
free to exercise, to get fit, and to enjoy their
sexuality at will. We were well fed, and not
stressed, and even the punishment was relatively mild:
the tawse or discipliner set on low; but then only if
we misbehaved, or failed to meet the standards that
our instructors set for performance of their lessons.
I revelled I being able to work out properly, and
always wanted to exceed the quota of exercises set for
me - numbers that were anyway always higher than that
for the rest of the class. And the lessons continued
to be interesting: one day, for example, an
Englishman appeared dressed very traditionally in a
Harris tweed sports coat and brown cavalry twill
slacks, a silk cravat at the neck of his Viyella
country shirt. We sat there in the classroom
expectantly, wondering what this aristocratic looking
man could be here to lecture us about - I suppose we
were expecting something like proper manners at the
afternoon tea table! But it turned out that he was an
expert in the art of cock sucking, a kind of
peripatetic teacher who came around to the various
slave training establishments to ensure that we were
all as skilled as possible.
He talked to us first about the importance of variety
- the need to pay attention to the shaft and the head,
the use of the tongue in the piss slit, the different
things you could do with an uncircumcised master, and
the way in which that little piece of skin just under
the piss slit is the most sensitive part. It had not
occurred to me before, until he told us, that when
you're kneeling with your back upright servicing your
master's dick you ought to look up at him
appreciatively as many masters like to look into the
slave's eyes as they service him; but if you're
rocking backwards, your heels pressed into your butt
and your master is really fucking your mouth, then it
is more polite to have your eyes downcast in the usual
slave manner. To our amazement he then took of his
sports coat, dropped his pants, and then demanded one
of us to go up and show him what we'd learned! He had
a large, uncut dick and the first lad to try gagged
and spluttered as he tried to get the monster right
down his throat. It was tough for me, too, when it
was my turn, but the Englishman seemed to like my
attentions as he said I had a "pass" at the end of it.
Mind you, it did feel odd kneeling there working away
at this man's dick with the tails of his cotton shirt
brushing my neck, and his pants bagged around his
ankles as he stood in front of me - I was used to the
guys whose dick I was working on being naked, as I
was. Still, I suppose that was part of the training -
a master doesn't always have time to take his clothes
off if he is in need of stimulation and relief, does
he?
All the time I was going through this training I
really was treated just like one of the others - I was
given the tawse if the guards and trainers did not
think I was working as hard as I could, and I was used
casually for their pleasure, especially after the cock
sucking lessons! I got to really know Richie's dick
intimately, and as I knelt there, sucking him to
climax, he'd run his hand over my shaved head and
almost croon at me "Just wait, Stevie boy, until
you're finished training... Then I can take your ass!"
Little did he know, I thought to myself - sucking his
dick when I was a trainee was one thing, but no way
was he going to fuck me: my ass was not going to be
used like that, especially not by Richie. He was a
nice enough guy, and, indeed, there was that feeling
of true friendship between us already, but even so,
that didn't mean that he could fuck me; on the other
hand, I'd seen enough of his body to know that he'd be
very satisfactory in bed, and I felt certain that his
strong thighs and firm butt must conceal a pucker just
right for my pleasure. Once again, as this thought
came to me, I realised how I was changing: at one
time I'd never even have looked at another man's body
with a view to considering how good it would be to
fuck!
As I've told you, Master Rafe was a very "hands on"
owner of his establishment, and was always prowling
around looking at progress and monitoring what was
happening. He had a magnificent chestnut stallion
that had its own special slave to groom it - I suppose
that was one of his few extravagances, having heard
from the others about his otherwise relatively
aesthetic lifestyle. I'd been in the training
programme about three weeks, and had already seen the
progress my fellow trainee slaves were making as the
fat dropped away and their muscles thickened and
strengthened under the exercise regime and healthy
diet. I'd got used to the totally shaved look, too,
and in some ways it was good - it felt really sensual
to have another totally shaved body squirming against
you at night as you lay together in the tiny pallet.
And the young guy I'd seen on the first day (the one
who'd first been naked as he had worn no underwear)
and I had become special favourites - if we could, we
always tried to get locked in together: although the
guards were on the look out for this as they wanted us
to all experience each other in their efforts to rid
us of body shyness. He was most inventive: he hadn't
needed the cock sucking lessons at all, and I
marvelled at the ways he managed to pleasure me as our
sweaty bodies grappled with each other at night. That
morning, though, I realised that my fun with these
trainees was over, as Master Rafe pulled his horse up
next to me.
As I'd been taught to, I dropped to my knees, back
straight, and head bent. "Stand up, Steve", he
commanded, and I scrambled to my feet and assumed the
"rest" position, head still bowed.
"Look at me!". I turned my head upwards, and saw him
smiling down at me. "Right, Steve, enough of this
little holiday interlude for you. It's time you
started to work properly, so get over to the workshops
- Richie's there, and I've told him to take out those
ridiculous rings you have. I can't do anything about
the tattoos - small ones you can burn out with lasers,
but the sheer volume of ink your previous owner had
them use makes that impracticable. You can start to
grow your hair again - I like to see a hairy guy, so
there's no need to shave your chest or legs or
anything. But shaved balls and ass, a neatly trimmed
bush and short pits, of course, and I like the cropped
look for the heads of my slaves so that should be kept
short. Understand?"
"Yes, master." Hey, things were looking up - I was
going to start looking like a proper man again.
"And this afternoon I want you to spend all the time
with the slave who supervises the exercising of the
trainees - that's going to be your job from next week:
you've got the right body for it, and I think you
like working out, don't you? I may as well capitalise
on the skills and abilities you already have. As
you're on the staff here now, so to speak, no more
nakedness either - standard slave shorts, and a
singlet if you want, to cover up most of those
tattoos. I'll break you in myself in a couple of
weeks, when you've got some of your hair back - as I
said when you first came here, it will be good to have
a bit of white meat to relax with , rather than these
endless black slaves. Now, cut along, and prepare for
this afternoon."
"Thank you, master", I said as I jogged off. But what
did he mean about "breaking me in"? Still, it wasn't
going to be for a couple of weeks, and in the meantime
I was going to get rid of these rings.
The establishment had a little workshop for repairs to
the various vehicles and instruments used in training,
and Richie was waiting for me there. He wanted to
start with my tit rings, and at first he thought it
would be easy - but they were big, heavy ones in
stainless steel, and not at all amenable to being just
cut through with a metal shears. So I had to kneel
down and have the ring clamped in a vice, and then
Richie took a long, rat-tailed file and started ever
so gently to file away at the ring to cut through it.
All this fiddling around with my nips of course make
me have an erection, and Richie grinned as he saw my
dick reaching for the sky. The work went on and on,
and even though he was very careful, the now hot file
would occasionally touch my actual skin and then I'd
want to jump with the shock - but with my ring gripped
in the vice that was even more painful! By the time
he'd finished the first ring I was dripping pre-cum,
and we agreed to stop for a few minutes so that I
could jerk off - well, actually, Richie played with me
for a bit and actually did the business, as he said
he'd always liked the look of my dick.
Once both tit rings were out, it was the turn of the
one in my nose, and once again Richie gripped it
firmly in the vice. I had to bend right over to get
down to the level of the bench, and I wondered why
Richie took the tightening handle out of the vice as
soon as the ring was held solidly there.
I felt Richie's hands running over my butt, and he
murmured "Hey, Steve, now you're one of us guard
slaves, it's fun time.... I wasn't allowed to fuck you
when you were a trainee, as I had to treat you just
like the others, but your butt's been driving me wild.
How about a quick fuck now, whilst you're in position
like this...." As he was saying this, I could feel
Richie's finger start to pry my big butt muscles
apart, and then the tip of his finger ran down my
crack and touched my hole.
I squirmed, and tried to prevent more action, but my
nose ring was keeping me firmly in place, bent over.
"No, Richie... I don't take dick in the ass.... I'll
jerk you off, or blow you if you like, but no fucking
of my ass, OK?"
"Well, Steve, that's interesting... I'd heard from one
of the slaves at the Colonel's who was talking to a
guard from here when they were both at the doctor's
office that you had this thing about not getting
fucked... And it just makes you more desirable!
Taking a guy up the ass is always good, but taking him
when he doesn't want it is even better... So much more
exciting...."
As he spoke, I felt that presence, that special
sensation, that you only get from the warm, moist tip
of a rock-hard dick as Richie played it up and down my
crack, lingering on my pucker and kind of stirring it
around so that shivers of sensation went through me.
"NO, Richie... Don't...." But as he continued, I
cried out " Look, fucker, if you don't stop that
immediately there'll be problems when you let me go -
you can't keep me in this fucking vice all day...."
"Oh Steve... You terrify me... What are you going to
do, when I've fucked you? Beat me up? Turn me into a
pulp, with those big strong fists of yours? Master
Rafe would never allow that, you know. So just stand
there like a good boy, and let your mate Richie show
you what real sex is all about..."
I started to thrash around as best I could - you try
it, with your nose effectively held immobile - but
Richie was thrusting at me. I could feel the heat of
his thighs against mine, and I was trying to strike
out at him with my arms, but he grabbed hold of my
wrists and started to push my arms high up my back:
even though I was probably much stronger than him, I
was at such a mechanical disadvantage that I had to
give in as it really began to hurt. I was shouting at
him, screaming for the bastard to stop, but Richie
carried on. I could feel his dick head at my pucker,
and he as forcing himself forward, and even though I
tried to clench my butt together as hard as I could, I
kind of knew ultimately that he would win.
Suddenly there was a scream from Richie, and my own
body jerked, too - really hurting my nose. Master
Rafe stood there, his discipliner in his hand, and he
was glaring at Richie who was writhing on the floor.
"What's going on here?", he demanded.
Richie was silent, and although I wanted to tell him,
I didn't want to drop Richie in the shit, so I kept
quiet, too.
"So, a couple of slaves having sex during the working
day... You know that's not allowed! I don't mind what
you do in the dorms, but sex during the day is
forbidden as I want you to focus on your work. That's
not a good start to your new job, Steve! And you,
Richie isn't it? You know the rules as well as I do.
What have you got to say for yourselves? Spending
time having fun, instead of working for your
master..."
It was so unfair! I was being raped, and now I was
being blamed. Richie just muttered "I'm sorry,
master. Please forgive me..." But I kept quiet, not
wanting to say anything.
"Across the bench, Richie, next to Steve", master Rafe
commanded, and once the black was in position master
Rafe pulled down his shorts. I felt the warmth of his
body pressing all along the length of mine as we both
knelt there.
"You slaves are getting beyond yourselves - you're
lucky I don't send you both off to the doctor to have
you calmed - you know what that is?"
"Yes, master", we almost chorused.
"Well, this is the final warning for both of you. Any
more sex play during working hours, and you'll each
lose one testicle. Understand?"
"Yes, master."
Richie screamed then, and gave four more shouts as
there was a "swishing" noise as master Rafe brought
down his discipline cane across the slave's naked
butt.
And then it was my turn. "I never thought I'd need to
punish you so soon, Steve", he said. "But learn this
lesson well - I told you I was firm but fair, and you
have already abused my trust in you...."
The cane caught me totally unawares, and I too shouted
out with the shock as it sliced across my bare butt.
Fortunately I'd gripped the vice with my hands,
otherwise I think I'd have torn my septum as my whole
body jerked. I desperately wanted to tell master Rafe
that he was wrong, that I would be an obedient slave,
and that I wanted to work hard here for him, but what
was the point? He'd probably think the worse of me
for trying to escape blame for what was happening. So
I just had to stand there and take it, as four more
cane strokes made their mark across me.
"Now, Richie, get on and get that ring out of Steve,
as you were ordered", master Rafe commanded. "Then
get him some shorts, and get on with your work. And
you, Steve... What was all that fuss about? I only
came in here because I heard you shouting? Do you
always make that much noise when you're having sex?
Well, it won't do here, you know - I don't care what
you slaves do in the dorms, but I won't have my peace
disturbed! If you're one of those men who likes to
shout and cry when he's cumming, you'd better make
sure you gag yourself. Understand?"
Well, what could I say? So I just muttered "Yes,
master. I'm sorry, master."
He strode out, and Richie began to file at my nose
ring - not as gently as before. When it was finally
out I stood and glared at him, and he glared back at
me. "You bastard!", I began, "Trying to rape me..."
"Hey, Steve, calm down... I wasn't trying to rape you,
just have a bit of fun..."
"But I told you to stop... Look, I don't like dick up
the ass, OK. So when I told you to stop..."
"Oh come on, Steve, grow up! Where have you been all
your life? Don't you know that it's all a part of the
fun? When you've got a guy helpless and you start to
fuck him, a lot of guys cry out for you to stop - it
adds to their excitement, to make them feel they're
being fucked against their will, but they secretly
really want you to go at them, and go at them hard.
So the more you told me to stop, the more I thought
you really wanted a good hard fucking.... We could
have had a good time if master Rafe hadn't come in. I
suppose the next time, I'll have to gag you..."
"There won't be a next time, Richie! There wouldn't
have been this time, if I wasn't stuck in that fucking
vice. You took the handle out deliberately didn't
you, so I couldn't get free?"
"Of course I did. I've fancied your body ever since
you came here, and having you helpless like that just
makes you more desirable. Every man wants to fuck an
ass that's like yours.. And taking you when you're
effectively tied down was just too much of an
opportunity..."
"Bastard! Don't even try again, right, or I'll turn
your face into pulp!"
"Hey, calm down! It's no big deal, taking a dick up
your ass... Anyone would think I was trying to hurt
you or something..."
"Richie, no more, OK? Shut the fuck up, and get me
those shorts."
It felt odd to be dressed again, to feel the cotton of
the shorts rubbing against my dick and balls,
especially as there wasn't even a trace of pubic hair
to stop the fabric sliding over me. Still, I met the
current physical training instructor: He was being
sold to the US Marine Corps, he proudly told me.
Master Rafe had seen an advertisement saying that the
Government was looking for physically tough slaves
with knowledge of hard training as it needed to boost
the numbers in the armed forces, and after discussion
with the slave, had agreed to sell him. The guy was
really looking forward to serving our country, and to
living with all the other hunks in the corps. "Do you
know", he told me, "They don't differentiate between
slaves and free men in the corps - we share the same
barracks and everything. Except of course that they
get paid, and can get married if they want. And I
suppose the slaves can't refuse the dicks of the free
men, if they want to fuck. Still, it will be a good
life...".
And so I began my new career. I really enjoyed it -
soon, I was totally in charge of the exercise, which
began just after sunrise for all the guards and all
the trainees, with an hour of vigorous exercises
conducted in the open area, all of us together. It
was a mark of pride of the guards and trainers that
they could out-perform all the trainees, so everyone
was really kept up to the mark - some of the trainees,
especially the eighteen year old ones who had been
jocks, were after all very good with their bodies.
Throughout the day them I supervised the getting into
shape of the trainees - in-between their lectures and
practicals they always went on a long run, and I also
made them do further exercise sessions with weights
and so on to build them up. I always ran along with
them on the runs, and soon got to know how to use my
tawse to good effect to "encourage" those poor young
bastards whose parents had let them overeat, or who
had never moved from in front of the TV! I believe in
practical training, too, so rather than describe the
exercises with weights, I always did them along with
the trainees (with much higher loads, of course).
Socially, I was having fun, too. Us guards and
trainers slept in a roomy, airy dorm, and there was an
unprecedented luxury - individual beds, which were
"ours". Once you had a bed in the dorm you didn't
change it, so when you jerked off at night you could
spill your cum all over it if you wanted to, as it was
only you who was going to have to endure the stiff
patches the next night. Not that there was much
jerking off: we were, after all, healthy, fit young
guys, and as you would expect we therefore were
heavily into sex. Being bigger and stronger than the
rest I had no problem in making sure that I didn't
have to take dick, but I basically fucked my way
through all my fellows to see which of them suited me
best. I don't know whether it's because he was the
first guy I'd met there, or what, but Richie had a
special interest for me, and once I'd forgiven him for
trying to rape me, and I'd found out that he had a
most fuckable ass himself, he and I spent most nights
together. It wasn't like Grunt, who I think I'd
almost loved - no, this was two big strong men who
just liked sex and who found themselves a reasonably
good fit in that area. I didn't mind kissing him and
sucking him off, but I usually fucked him for my
pleasure. Richie didn't like this much at first, but
soon began to appreciate the skill with which I fucked
- I think I had that edge on most of the others, from
having to "stud" in public - I could now be really
uninhibited when it came to drilling my dick into
Richie, even if the rest of the guys in the dorm were
watching TV or standing around.
I seemed to have been rehabilitated in the eyes of
master Rafe, too, after my bad start - he often rode
past as I was drilling the trainees, or cantered along
beside me as I ran with them. One day when I'd got
back, he came over and stood and looked at me as I
cooled down - my shorts were sweat-soaked, and I was
going through a set of gentle exercises to let my
muscles relax and my heart to slow to normal. I of
course went to the rest position, and he ran his hands
lightly over my pecs, just rubbing my nips very
lightly.
"So, Steve... Those nipples feel fine now, I can
hardly tell where the rings went through. And that
thatch of hair on your chest.... Is that about it?"
"Yes, master. Before I was shaved, that was about the
natural limit. And on my belly..."
"Yes, I like that in a man, especially the thicker
blade down the middle. Drop those shorts..."
I did as I was told, and he inspected my balls in the
usual way, cupping them in his palm and separating
them with his thumb to feel them.. I felt confident
that he knew what he was doing, as he must have
inspected hundreds of slaves before, and made no
attempt to pull away.
"Excellent! Keep them shaved like this. And is your
ass smooth, too?"
"Yes, master, as you commanded." Actually, I was glad
I wasn't expected to grow hair in my ass again - when
it had started to re-grow it had been really itchy and
painful as the new hairs dug into the opposite cheek,
and your skin is really sensitive down there, isn't
it? I'd been glad to shave them off again.
"Do you know about cleaning yourself out properly,
Steve?"
I blushed slightly, as I remembered how Charlie and
Coon had used the enema hose on me. "Yes, master."
"Good. Well, clean yourself out properly after work,
then present yourself at my house. It's time we got
better acquainted... And I haven't taken your cherry
yet, have I?"
"Master, it was Billy-Joe who did that..."
"Yes, I suppose it would be. He was your first owner,
wasn't he? Still, I like to fuck all my slaves, just
to ensure that they all understand who's the boss
around here, and I regard my first time with a new
slave as kind of symbolic; so even if, technically,
you're not a virgin, you are to me. And, as I said
when I won you after that card game, it will be nice
to have a bit of white meat for a change - I usually
select my trainers and guards because they have
reasonable bodies, but apart from you they're all
blacks as I need to keep the expenses down. So I'm
looking forward to it, so make sure you're nice and
clean as I very much dislike the smell of shit when I
pull out of a slave, understand?".
I felt sick in my stomach at the thought of what was
to come, and all I could do was mutter "Yes, master."
"What's the problem, Steve? You're usually cheerful
and enthusiastic when I see you around the place.
Aren't you pleased I'm taking the trouble to really
get acquainted?"
"Master, please... I'll serve you in any way you
command, of course. But I don't like.... I don't like
having my ass used, I...."
"You should have thought of that before you became a
slave! Billy-Joe was always telling us at the club
about how you enslaved yourself voluntarily... Didn't
it occur to you that a handsome, good-looking male
with a body like yours would be used sexually?"
"No, master. I thought it was only women slaves..."
"Well, you're even more naive than I thought. But it
doesn't matter - what you like and don't like is of no
concern. Slaves exist to serve; and you will, in
whatever way I choose. So remember - I want you
squeaky clean inside tonight!"
With that he rode off, and I was left standing there,
feeling utterly depressed and worried. I almost
thought of running away, just taking off, and running
as far as my body would take me. But what would be
the point? With my brands, whenever anyone saw me
they'd know I was a slave, and there was no way of
removing my SIN. With no money and almost no clothes
I couldn't hope to get all that far, and the moment
the police stopped me for questioning, they'd see my
SIN and return me here.... The best I could hope for
then would be a whipping, and a fucking; and the
worst was, I suppose, castration.
Work for the remainder of the day was just awful. And
when I went back to the dorm and stood in the showers,
Richie saw me and at once came over and put his arm
around me.
"Steve, buddy, what's wrong?"
"Master Rafe wants me tonight... I've got to go around
to his house..."
"Hey, that's fun! He usually feeds you on some of his
leftovers as he eats dinner, and it's really good to
have proper food again. And he sometimes gives you a
beer, or a glass of wine - but be careful there, after
a long time abstaining, even one beer can make you
pretty drunk...."
"Yes, but he's told me to clean myself out inside...
So he's going to fuck me...."
"So? No big deal - he's got a nice dick, not too
thick, and it's easy to take. And he's a pretty
sensual guy - he likes a lot of stroking and stuff
beforehand, and he enjoys massaging your hole and
lubing it up. And he'll probably play with your dick,
too... It's a whole lot of fun."
"Richie, I can't... I can't take it. I hate it.
That's why I was so angry when you tried to fuck
me..."
"There's no such word as 'can't' for a slave, Steve!
You don't have a choice, do you? He's our owner,
remember? Look, it's only for a few minutes - even if
someone was drilling your teeth without an anaesthetic
you could take it for a few minutes, couldn't you? So
just lie there and think about something else! I
think he's really turned on by your body, so I guess
he'll cum almost as soon as he's started. It will all
be over before you've even had time to worry about
it."
"No, Richie. It's not like that for me. I'm a 'top',
and I hate taking it. It makes me feel as if I'm no
longer a man, as if..."
"Steve, you are no longer a man - you're a slave,
remember? And if you go on like this, you might
become even less of a man - if you anger master Rafe,
he'll punish you. And he has been known to send
slaves for castration if he's very angry. Think about
it, Steve - rejecting your owner's dick isn't very
flattering to him, is it? What are you really saying
when you do that? 'No master, you don't own my body.
And I think your dick is repulsive'. No guy wants to
hear that, does he? And you know how sensitive owners
are about being obeyed... Come on, Steve, wise up!
None of us here want to see you losing your balls,
especially over something as trivial as this..."
"But I can't...."
"You must, Steve. Now, here, let me help you....
Maybe if I push the enema nozzle up you it will get
you thinking about what it feels like to have another
guy touching your hole.... You have done this before,
haven't you?"
"Yes, Richie. At the Colonel's there were a couple of
really nice slaves who always prepared me..."
"Well then, that's the first step... Come on... Bend
over, reach back and spread that butt of yours, and
let me get started...."
End Of Part Twenty Three
YOU CAN'T BE FRIENDS WITH A SLAVE, Part twenty four
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
WORK AS USUAL?
I suppose having Richie help clean me out did help,
but I was still shaking inside when I knocked at the
slave door at the rear of master Rafe's house, and
waited. They'd told me he had two indoor slaves, and
I was surprised to see that one of them at least was a
woman, when she opened the door - she was a black girl
in her mid-twenties, wearing a mid-thigh length slave
smock in white. I was in freshly-laundered slave
shorts, and I felt my dick stir at the sight of her -
I hadn't really seen a woman at close quarters for a
long time, especially not someone about my own age who
was clearly lithe and sexually desirable.
She kind of smiled as she saw my mouth drop open in
amazement, and obviously knew what I was thinking as
she whispered "Master Rafe doesn't just like big
strong bucks like you, you know! Now, stop standing
there getting a hard on, as he's waiting for you..."
She led me into a big room on the ground floor that
was very masculine - leather sofas, a big table,
polished wooden floor, a huge fireplace that was
currently empty. There were no trinkets or ornaments,
but a few good original pictures on the walls. The
lighting was low, and master Rafe was sitting casually
on one of the sofas. The girl bowed to him, and said
"Is there anything else you requite, master...?"
"No. But stay close. It's time you were bred, and I
might choose this slave to do it." Turning to me, he
said "You do know how to fuck women, don't you?"
"Yes, master. I used to be put out to stud often, as
master Billy-Joe needed the money. And before I was
enslaved I had a lot of girlfriends, and I never..."
"Silence! A simple answer will suffice. I'll think
about it - half breeds get better prices than pure
black babies, and she needs a pregnancy to really
bring her body on. Now, come and sit here by me..."
He indicated the couch, and told the girl to leave.
This was like a dreadful re-enactment of a scene with
Billy-Joe, and I could feel the sweat on my back as I
leaned in to the cool leather of the couch.
His arm reached out, and he casually stroked my upper
arm, caressing my biceps, then allowed it to fall onto
my pecs where he toyed with my nips a bit - I felt
myself starting to go hard as he did this. "I think
you're better without those rings, don't you, Steve?"
Well, actually, Id' got used to them. And they were
useful when I was running - when they bounced up and
down they gave me a whole lot of sensation, and
generally made me have an erection: a real advantage,
when you're running naked, as I've explained. But he
was my master, so I said politely "Yes, master, thank
you."
Something in my voice must have sounded odd as he
looked at me straight on, left his hand resting on my
pecs, and said "You're not scared, are you, Steve?
Your voice..."
Actually I was scared as hell about what he was
planning to do to me. But you can't admit you're
afraid, can you? So I mumbled "No, master..."
"Steve, what's wrong? Do you find me repulsive, or
something?"
"No, master!" Actually, compared to being pawed by
Billy-Joe's fat clammy hands, master Rafe's refined
touch from his long, strong fingers was actually
rather sensual.
He leaned forward. "Kiss me, Steve..."
Well, Billy-Joe had done that sometimes, forcing his
vile tongue into me, and I hated it. And of course
I'd done it with Grunt... But I'd never really taken
the initiative. I though of how I used to kiss my
girlfriends, put my hands on either side of his face
and pulled him towards me. I pressed my lips to his,
then pushed my tongue forward into his mouth. Once
I'd got started it was easy, actually, and he
responded. Soon we were kissing passionately, and
embracing and running our hands all over each other's
torsos - he'd been wearing a tight-fitting T and I
simply rolled it up so it perched under his arms, so
that I could get my hands on him.
I was hopelessly erect now, and his hand slid over my
belly and under the waistband of my shorts to start to
feel me. I moaned with pleasure, and our kisses got
even more passionate. Then he pushed me away gently,
and I saw from the way he began to look down what he
wanted me to do - I slid off the couch to kneel
between his legs, and undid the buckle on his leather
belt, then the button at the top of his crisp pale
blue jeans, and peeled his fly open. Underneath he
had snowy white cotton briefs, and I pulled them down
so that his dick flew up into the air. My nose was
assailed by that delicious scent of man, that special
smell you only get when a dick that has been confined
in underwear breaks free.
Remembering my lessons I kept my eyes looking up to
his as I took his dick into my mouth and started
sucking it. I did every trick that the Englishman had
taught us in the hope of getting him to cum - if he
did that, something in my brain said, then he won't
want to fuck! He was moaning with pleasure as I
worked on him, but he made me stop, reaching down and
pushing my head away.
"Let's get naked..." He whispered, and raised himself
up slightly so that I could ease his jeans and briefs
down over his butt and his legs. I undid his trainers
and took them off, and removed his clothes over his
feet, then knelt up and pulled his T over his head.
Quickly, I slipped my shorts down, then went and sat
beside him and stated kissing him again. We each
groped at each others crotch, and were getting really
passionate. I was really enjoying it, enjoying having
another man appreciate my body like this, as I
explored his.
Master Rafe broke off again, and stood up. He held
out his hand to me and helped me to my feet, and, with
our dicks jutting out proudly in front of us, he led
me across the big room and we started up the wide
staircase. At that moment the young slave girl popped
her head out of a door that presumably led to the
kitchen, and stared at us.
"Do you need me, master Rafe?"
"No, but stay in the kitchen, Luella. I haven't
decided whether to use Steve here with you tonight
yet. What do you think of him?"
I was astounded. I mean, it's one thing to be stark
naked in front of a male slave, isn't it? But master
Rafe didn't seem at all embarrassed about his female
looking at him - I suppose that's how it is when
you're a master. I felt really ashamed, though,
thinking about how she was seeing me - all erect like
this, when I'd been playing with another guy! The girl
cast her eyes up and down me, appraising my body as if
it was some piece of statuary, and said "He's a
handsome stud, master... But are you sure he's up to
breeding"? She laughed as she said this, and I
realised why: under her gaze, my dick had collapsed,
humiliatingly.
Master Rafe looked down - he was still rock solid -
and his reply was meant to be funny, I suppose.
"Don't worry - when the time comes, I'll make sure
there's some life in him, even if I have to whip it
into him!"
He led me on up the stairs and into his bedroom, that
had a very modern steel-framed bed covered in
snowy-white sheets. He pushed me back on to it, and
sat astride my belly, then leaned forward and started
to kiss me again. I was at once erect again,
especially when he reached back and started to tease
the tip of my dick up and down his butt crack.
"You like that, don't you, Steve? You want to fuck,
don't you? I thought you were meant to be a big male
stud, but you couldn't keep it up for a slave girl
could you? But you like the feel of an ass, don't
you?", he whispered, and his words gave me a real
jolt. I mean, until I was enslaved I'd always thought
sex with men was perverted, disgusting, and I'd been
known as a cocksman always ready to fuck anything in
skirts... And now here I was, with a naked man astride
me, starting to leak pre-cum at the touch of his
pucker against my dick. What had happened to me?
Master Rafe saw that something had changed in my mood,
and stopped. He pushed my hands above my head and
held me there with his - well, not really, as I could
have easily pushed him off - but I guess it was
symbolic of his mastery of me - and looked down into
my eyes.
"You're surprised that you like men, aren't you,
Steve? All those years of perverted education when
you were growing up telling you it was "wrong" to like
men, that it was somehow shameful to want to feel
another dick against yours, to slide into a man's
ass... I tell you, the Christians in this country have
done more to cause misery and unhappiness for so many
men than any other set of people in the whole of human
history! Before they came along with their strange
ideas about sex, men had a healthy enjoyment of their
bodies: look at the Ancient Greeks, the Romans - they
all understood that men like to bond together, than
men enjoy the feel of other men against them, that
it's only another man who can really understand what
brings pleasure to a guy. And then the Christians
spoiled it all for everyone, just as they try to spoil
everything that men enjoy: no swearing, no drinking,
no fucking other men... They just want to emasculate
us, turn us into little harmless goodies, who creep
along to church on Sundays and sing silly hymns to the
big ju-ju in the sky! They've got a lot to answer
for, I tell you, and, sadly, you're one of the ones
they got at - it's not your fault, it's just that
their influence is so pernicious and pervasive in our
society."
"Don't misunderstand me", he went on. "There's
nothing wrong with women. We need them to breed with.
And a lot of men get real satisfaction from a
life-long relationship with them. But a lot of men
don't - men who would prefer to be with other guys,
men who want to really appreciate and enjoy the body
of another man. That's what's wrong with the
Christians - they want everyone to be the same,
everyone ought to go out with women, get married, and
breed 2.4 children so that they can pervert them in
turn. It's ironic really, isn't it - their founder
spent all his time running around with twelve other
guys, and never married, and yet when guys today want
to bond together, it's somehow wrong."
He stopped, and looked at me again. "Still, enough of
me trying to explain your problem to you. There are
more practical ways of teaching you how wrong you
are...."
His head came down and he started kissing me again,
and then he rolled off me and took me in his arms, and
soon we were again caressing and stroking, feeling our
dicks, enjoying the manly scent of our bodies and the
taste of our sweat as out tongues explored each other.
I was enjoying it. It was fantastic. It wasn't at
all like being used by Billy-Joe. Master Rafe treated
me as an equal, and I forgot he was my owner, and I
was a slave, until.... until he told me to lie on my
belly with my feet on the floor. I thought he was
going to sit astride my waist and massage my shoulders
as he'd been enjoying feeling my muscles there only a
moment before, but instead he pushed my feet apart
with his, and I felt his dick probing at my crack.
I froze. And as his pressure against me increased, I
could take it no more.
I pushed him back, rolled over, sat up, and cradled my
head in my hands with shame. "Please, master...
Please, don't...."
I was expecting him to be angry, to shout, to have me
punished. But instead he came and sat beside me and
put his arm around my shoulders.
"Steve, what's wrong... We were enjoying it.... "
"Please, master, I can't bear the thought of a dick up
my ass. Please, master, I'll do anything else. I
want your body, master, I want to feel you all over
me. I want you to cum into my mouth, to stroke my
balls, to..."
"Ssshhhh, Steve. Enough of this 'I want'. That's
selfish, as well as not being very slave-like! Slaves
don't 'want' things, do they? They get given things
by their masters, and are grateful for them. And
don't say you'll 'do anything else'.... Of course you
would, if I commanded it."
I kept my head in my hands almost in shame, because I
knew he was right. That's how slaves did think and
act, and I wasn't doing that, was I? Somewhere deep
down inside me I just knew I wasn't a slave, in spite
of my collar and my brands. I was still a man, a
strong, virile man with my own needs and desires, and
I just couldn't mask all of them, even though I'd been
taught the polite ways of slave speech, the correct
way to hold my body in supplication, and all that
stuff.
"I ought to have you taken out to the whipping frame,
and get you thoroughly whipped, to beat some sense
into you, you know that, don't you, Steve?"
"Yes, master."
"Is that what you want, Steve, a thorough whipping?"
Actually, even though I knew that was a terrible
thing, at that moment it seemed preferable to being
fucked. I just sat there, and muttered "Master, it's
your choice, whether to whip me or not. I'm your
slave, master." I knew this was the polite way of
putting it, but there was still that terrible
dichotomy in my brain - at one level I was his slave,
at another, I was still a man.
"Hmmm... I think there's a deep problem here, Steve.
By rights, I ought to tie you down and simply take
what's mine. But I want you to give me your ass
freely, as a proper slave would, thinking only of my
pleasure. We'll need to do some more work on training
you.... But you can relax... I'll stop trying to fuck
you, for now..."
It felt just as if a great weight had been lifted off
my shoulders. I sat upright, and saw him looking at
me, smiling slightly. The next instant we were all
over each other again, and in the heat of our passion
it was only moments before we'd jerked each other off,
shooting big streams of our cum across each others
bodies.
We lay there on the starched white sheets, my deeply
tanned muscular body against his more ordinary one,
pale from the lack of exposure to the sun. He kissed
me again, and said "Well, Steve, when I do breed you
with Luella, there ought to be enough there to get her
pregnant!"
I grinned back and said "Yes, master, and I'm soaking
wet, too, with yours - do you always shoot so
much...?" I stroked my chest as I said this, rubbing
his creamy white cum into the thatch on my pecs to
show him I loved his cum and wanted it to be part of
me.
"Only when the other guy really turns me on, Steve..."
He didn't send me back to the slave quarters that
night, and I forget how many times we woke and found
each other again, just taking enjoyment from the feel
of each others skin, the taste of our sweat, and that
wonderful sensation as our dicks touched another guy's
skin. Luella woke us in the morning, shortly before
dawn: she stood there looking down at us, bodies
intertwined together, and said "Master Rafe, it's
almost dawn... Time to get down and see the slaves
starting to exercise...."
She was holding a silver tray on which was a thin bone
china cup and a silver teapot. She poured tea into
the cup, added milk, took a biscuit from the silver
caddy also on the tray, and handed the cup to our
master. He sat up, brushing his hair back from his
brow where it had fallen during our love making, and
took the cup. I wasn't offered anything, of course- I
might be his equal in bed, but I was a slave in the
eyes of the world, and to Luella. He started to sip
his tea, then said to me "No time to waste, Steve...
Get up now, and get out there - don't you have to
start the morning exercises soon?"
To tell you the truth I was embarrassed at having to
get out of bed where it was obvious I'd been sleeping
with another man, especially as my chest hair and
pubes were stuck together with dried cum, and I was
semi-erect. There was nothing for it though, was
there, and so I got to my feet and stood there. In
all the movies the guy covers himself with a sheet or
something, or reaches down and picks up his pants and
pulls them on quickly - but I couldn't do that as I
couldn't disturb master Rafe by pulling the sheet off
him, and my shorts were presumably downstairs in the
living room. So I had to walk across the polished
floor, almost hearing the slap of my naked feet as I
saw the girl watching me, and acutely conscious of my
state of arousal.
As I went out, I heard her say "That sure is one fine
looking buck, master... When are you going to put him
into me? I love that dick of his...."
I was blushing all over as I went down the stairs. I
mean, I know I'm handsome, and I do have a great body,
and I'm well hung... But you're not used to hearing
yourself discussed like that, are you, especially not
by a woman?
The next couple of days were uneventful, in that
master Rafe just carried on as if nothing had happened
- I saw him riding around on his horse, observing
everything, and several times he rode alongside me as
I ran with a pack of trainees on one of their
strengthening runs. At night I generally slept with
Richie, and he seemed pleased to have me fuck him - I
think he liked being the one I'd "chosen", as most of
the other guards did regard me as something rather
special, being so physically desirable, and white. I
began to relax - perhaps master Rafe had given up on
the idea of fucking me, I thought. I just buckled
down to working hard, and trying to be as dutiful as
possible.
I wasn't there when master Rafe's horse took a tumble
and threw him: they said it was a gopher hole or
something, the horse's hoof went into it, and he was
thrown. He wasn't badly hurt, but was very shaken and
bruised. They thought at first that the horse had
broken a leg and would have to be put down (thank
goodness that didn't happen to slaves, I thought - or
did it? What happened to men injured in the mines or
quarries?), but the vet finally diagnosed only very
bad bruising. The prognosis seemed to be that both
rider and horse would be unable to ride together for a
couple of weeks.
When I was finishing off later that day, clearing away
all the weight training equipment, master Rafe
appeared and, as a dutiful slave, I went and knelt in
front of him.
"Get up, Steve, and carry on with your work." He
watched me as I jogged around the area with the
weights, and when I was done he said "With master
Billy-Joe, you were used to pull his rickshaw, weren't
you? I saw you lots of times tethered in that
humiliating way outside the club, totally naked and
chained there by your nose ring."
"Yes, sir. He used me like that."
"Well you're going to have to do the same thing for me
- I can't ride, but I do need to get around the place
here. I've borrowed that rickshaw from Billy-Joe, or,
rather, he's charged me an exorbitant hire fee for it,
as he says it's difficult for him to do without it
(even though I've seen him in town recently in some
fancy gold-plated contraption - very vulgar it is).
So tomorrow morning you can pull me around the estate,
and one of the other slaves can temporarily take over
your training duties. There are several slaves who
can do that, but only you know how to pull a rickshaw
properly, I believe. Be at the back door of my house
at dawn, ready for my first inspection."
"Yes, master", I replied humbly, even though I was
seething inside. It just wasn't fair - I'd done the
rickshaw think, and pretty humiliating it had been.
Now I was on my way up again, near the top of the
hierarchy of slaves here, I was being demoted, made to
do this utterly humbling job. All my fellows in the
dorm would secretly be laughing at me, I knew. And
it was just like that - as I went to pull Richie into
my bed, one of the guys at the other end of the room
let out a loud imitation of a horse neighing, and all
the others burst into laughter. I went to go and
punch the bastard, but Richie held on to me and
whispered "that's what they want, Steve! If you
react, it will only get worse... Just ignore it, or
laugh along with them and it will soon stop."
Several other guys were doing it now, and there were
horse sounds running around the dorm. I suppose
Richie was right, so I said to him in a very loud
voice so they could all hear "Get on your hands and
knees tonight, Richie, as a real stallion's going to
fuck you.... You always say I'm hung like a horse,
well, I'm feeling really randy tonight and you're
going to take it, hard, like a stallion fucks."
The other guys all laughed at this, and, indeed, the
mocking noises stopped - or, rather, they were
silenced by Richie's cries as I really did pound him:
I was in pretty foul mood, and, frankly, I worked out
my anger on him. As we lay together afterwards I
felt a bit ashamed, as there were tears running down
Richie's cheeks. I hugged him close to me, and at
first he just refused to respond, lying there stiff
and immobile, but when I whispered into his ear
"Richie, please... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be
like that.... I didn't mean to hurt you" he turned to
face me.
Putting his mouth close to my ear, so that none of the
others could hear, he kind of sighed "Steve, you've
got to learn to control that temper of yours.. Look,
buddy, for your own good.... A slave with a temper is
a slave that sooner or later will be 'calmed' by the
doctor. I'm not crying because you hurt me - but
don't ever take me brutally like that again, please.
I'm crying because I'm going to lose you as a buddy
one day - you'll be sent off and come back as a
eunuch, with all your fire and energy gone. Please,
Steve, try and behave - I love you, Steve, and I want
you with me as a proper whole guy...."
I was shattered. I mean, how could he love me? We'd
hardly know each other for very long. But the worse
thing was I didn't love him. Sure, I liked him a lot.
And, as I've told you, he was the slave I'd rather
fuck that any of the rest of them. But I just didn't
feel for him the way he evidently did for me.
"Richie, Richie.... Oh, this is a fucking disaster.
Look... You know I like you a lot. You're my fuck
buddy here. But Richie... I don't... I can't... Oh,
shit... I don't know how to say this without hurting
you. But Richie, I don't love you."
"So why do you keep fucking me, rather than take the
others in turn?"
"Well, because, as I said, I like you a lot. I like
you more than any of the others. I like fucking you,
I like talking to you, I like to be around you. But I
don't love you, Richie. Look, can't we just be fuck
buddies, best friends here....?"
"No, Steve. It's not like that. I love you, and I
want you to love me in return."
"But I can't do that. No, I don't know how to do
that. It's not something I've got control over. You
either love someone or you don't. You can't alter
that..."
"It seems to me there's a lot of things you don't have
any control over, Steve. Your temper, how you feel...
Some buddy you are!"
"Please, Richie, don't be like that... I would if I
could. I do really like you. Can't we just carry on
as we are now? It's pretty good for me when I'm
fucking you, and I thought the same was true for
you..."
"It is, Steve, but only because I believed it was
leading on to more..."
Jesus fucking Christ, I thought to myself. I'd been
here before with one of my girl friends. She'd let me
fuck her, and we were having great sex. Then she
started in on all this love stuff, and finally she
told me she'd only let me fuck her as she thought I
wanted to marry her - I mean, I was only nineteen at
the time, and all I wanted was great, hot sex, and
lots of it. And now here I was again, in essentially
the same position. What was wrong with people?
Couldn't they understand that a man like me needs sex,
and that it was meant to be fun, something you did
together because you liked it, something that caused
your whole body the most incredible feelings it ever
had? Why did they have to come on with all this
"love", when sex was enough?
"Richie, I never told you... I never gave you any
reason to think... "
"You did, Steve. You kept fucking me. You kept
sleeping with me...."
"Yes, but that's because the sex was good. I thought
you were enjoying it, too. It's not serious with me,
it's just sex.... I never said anything about going
further..."
"But now you know, can you take it further, Steve?
Can you start to love me?"
I thought about this. Well, anyway, it wouldn't be
good to give an immediate reply, would it? I
remembered seeing one of those postcards once, those
with the supposedly meaningful mottos on them, and
this one said "If you have to ask if you're in love,
the answer's no."
I felt his whole body tense, as I lay there,
considering. It was obviously very important to him.
"Look, Richie", I whispered eventually, "I'm sorry. I
don't want to hurt you. I really do like you. But
that's all it is. That's all it ever has been. And
that's all it ever will be. I don't want to lose you
as a friend, as a fuck buddy... But that's it...."
"Yes, Steve. That does have to be it. I can't carry
on sleeping with you, enjoying your body, loving you,
when you don't love me. Find some other guy to fuck,
will you?"
"Hey, Richie, don't be like that.... The sex is great
between us: you like my dick and I like your ass...
And the other stuff, the kissing and cuddling, that's
good, too. Be reasonable.... Let's be buddies,
friends...."
"Didn't they tell you, Steve, that you can't be
friends with a slave? Slaves like us need to be
casual fucking partners so we don't care if one or the
other of us is sold. Or we need to have intense, deep
relationships so that if we're split up, we do at
least have something meaningful to look back on after
we've got over the pain. But friends... No. Slaves
can't be friends, Steve. After all, master Rafe might
order me to whip you tomorrow, or order you to whip
me.... Friendship doesn't work."
Tears were really flowing down his cheeks now, and as
I tried to lick them away and hold him to me to
comfort him, he thrust me away and got out of bed, and
walked back to his own. I lay there thinking about
what he'd said. Billy-Joe had told me that you
couldn't be friends with a slave, but he meant that a
free man and a slave were now so different that
friendship no longer worked. Richie's outburst gave a
whole new meaning to it.
Look, I'm not insensitive, and I really felt for
Richie, but what was I supposed to do? There was no
point in me lying awake worrying about it, was there?
That wouldn't serve any useful purpose, and I had a
busy day tomorrow, probably. So I turned over and
went to sleep.
Actually I didn't sleep all that much - not long after
the lights went out I could hear Richie gently
sobbing. The others heard it, too, and occasionally
one of the other slaves would slip out of his bed and
go and kneel by Richie to try and comfort him. All
this coming and going really disturbed me, and I
called out to them to tell them to stay in bed and get
to sleep. I was astonished when the youngest guy of
all, someone who was normally pretty mild and retiring
and was usually fucked by all the others, came over,
looked down at me, and said "Shut the fuck up, Steve!
Haven't you done enough already?"
I ought to have taken him across my knee and given him
a good hard spanking, but several of the other guys
called out "Right on, Jerry, you tell the bastard."
I'd never known that the others so resented me until
now, and I lay there in the dark, wondering what I'd
done wrong - after all, we were all slaves together,
and I thought we were getting on well: I'd fucked all
of them at one time or another, and none of them had
complained. I was so shocked that I did nothing, and
he walked back to his own bed, his young butt clenched
together in tension - I guess he'll never know what he
avoided just then.
They cold-shouldered me in the showers in the morning
- well, I mean, when you're all crowded in together
you can't really avoid touching the others, can you?
But they didn't speak to me at breakfast, and they all
made a special effort to chat to Richie, who was
wearing a kind of martyred look. It was almost as if
he was enjoying "the break up", as I heard him refer
to it, as much as he'd enjoyed the actual sex.
I went out, leaving them behind, and went over to
master Rafe's house, and there at the back door was my
familiar rickshaw. I'd dressed in clean slave shorts
as usual, and stood there wondering if I ought to take
them off - would master Rafe require me to run totally
naked, as Billy-Joe had? I decided to wait and see
what happened, and master Rafe came out shortly
afterwards, looking immaculate as usual in his
short-sleeved shirt and pressed jeans, his boots
highly polished. His discipliner hung from his belt,
and he was idly moving his tawse around from hand to
hand.
"So, Steve, good morning... You aren't looking as
bright and cheerful as you normally do...."
"Good morning, master."
"What's the matter? They tell me there was a
disturbance in the dorm last night. It was you and
that Richie, wasn't it?"
"Yes, master."
"Let me guess - a lovers' tiff....?"
"NO, master!". I almost forgot myself, and shouted.
"Ah, so we're sensitive about it, are we? He's your
fuck buddy, isn't he? And something happened."
"He was my fuck buddy, master." I was amazed almost
that I could say this. At one time I'd never have
admitted to anyone that I was fucking another guy.
"And you broke it up...?"
"No, master, he did. He didn't want to be just fuck
buddies...."
"Oh, one of those drama queens that wanted you to love
him, I suppose. Can't you slaves understand that you
ought to focus on what your owner wants, rather than
your own selfish emotions? So you broke up?"
"There was nothing to break up, master. We were just
fuck buddies, friends... And he wanted more."
"He should know that you can't be friends with a
slave, Steve. Especially not a tough one like you -
tough in mind, and tough in body. I think you know
what you want, and you just go after it, just like me.
We operate in different spheres now, of course, as
all you can pursue is the bodies of your fellow
slaves, and I can chase wealth and power.... But it's
much the same: you and I are alike, I think, we both
know what we want, and we go out to get it. Still,
enough of this philosophising - work calls."
"Now, Billy-Joe had you run naked, but I don't need
that as I see enough naked slave butts all day without
having yours right in front of my face all the time.
And he told me how important it was to have you
manacled into the shafts, to remind you of your proper
position - but I think you understand that, don't
you?"
"Yes, master."
"He said a lot of other things too about the
management of a pony slave, that I'll ignore for the
moment. You can just run free, and obey verbal orders
as usual. Now, take me off to the exercise ground, so
I can see how the exercises are going without you
leading them."
I picked up the shafts, and trotted off at a fast jog,
feeling again that sensation of being used, used just
as an animal might be used. Sure, I wasn't manacled,
and I wasn't naked. But I was still like a draft
animal, pulling my master along behind me. And I
couldn't help wondering what other things Billy-Joe
had told my owner about the management and control of
pony slaves.
End Of Part Twenty Four